Story time.
I volunteer at a nonprofit yoga studio on Friday evenings, checking people in, doing administrative stuff, and cleaning up a little during the 5:30 class. Tonight, a girl who’d never been there before came in about three minutes before class would begin and asked if we still had the sliding scale donation system to pay for classes. I told her that the standard fee for a drop-in class was $15, but yes, we did have a sliding scale fee for people experiencing financial hardship. I handed her the laminated card that explained the scale, and gave prices based on income level. She looked at it and said she only had a couple dollars. Now, that’s fine! There are a number of people who come to the studio who can only afford that much. In fact, that’s why we have the system.
She said, “Well, I don’t even have a couple of dollars, can I just go in without a donation?” I explained that it was not donation (i.e., optional), paying something was expected, and if she wanted to waive any fee she would have to speak to the teacher. (I allow this because sometimes, if a regular guest is really hard up, the instructor may be willing to take an IOU or something.)
Ben (the instructor) was close by, so I waved him over and he explained that the scale had a pay what you can option at the lowest end: if that’s $5, great!, if that’s $.25, that’s okay too. “We just ask that you pay what you can.”
Digging around in her pocket, she said she had about $.40, and he told her that was fine. “Okay, yeah,” she said, avoiding my eyes, “I just don’t think this person understood.”
Reader, I remained civil! As she handed me the change, I smiled up blandly into her face. “I think you should know that you make people feel bad!” she told me, sniffling (from the damp weather or from turgid emotion, I’m not sure).
You know what would make me feel bad, you guys? Giving away someone else’s goods and services for nothing, without their permission, knowing full well that Ben makes far less teaching at a nonprofit studio than he does anywhere else. “It’s not my salary,” I explained to her.
She bustled out and came back a few minutes later with a $20 bill, grudgingly saying she would pay $5. So I guess she had the money after all. The fact that she thought I was deliberately shaming her probably says more about the state of her own conscience than my behavior.
Anyway. This is my long lead-in to saying that I resent people acting like, because the studio is a nonprofit, we owe them something. After all, what is a nonprofit for if not to provide them anything they want for nothing? 98% of the people who take classes at the studio are wonderful, polite, zen-like individuals. It’s probably the chillest “customer service”-type job you could ask for. But every so often, someone thinks I’m being unreasonable because I ask them to pay something. Anything. I have had people pay less than a dollar, and I accept that because I know Ben believes in the idea behind the studio and wants to help people even when they don’t have much to give. That’s the kind of person he is. Those are the kind of people who teach at this studio. And maybe I’m not as nice a person as any of them. But I have to draw the line somewhere.
The studio is not a nonprofit so you can get something for nothing. It’s a nonprofit because, among other things, it parters with other nonprofit and government organizations to provide services to at need populations: at-risk youth, senior citizens, the homeless, those suffering from illness and disease, those in residential treatment programs, and people with physical and developmental disabilities. Like, for example, The Tubman Foundation, which runs a shelter for battered women and families. Among other things. A percentage of the class fees funds these programs. Another part goes to keep the studio running, and the rest goes to the teachers.
The fact that you can come into the studio and get a 90-minute yoga class for, literally, one dollar (if you’re a person experiencing financial hardship) is extremely rare. It’s one of the few nonprofit yoga studios in the country. There are studios out in the suburbs that have a non-negotiable fee of $20 per drop-in class. Also, in this economy, the studio is struggling to stay afloat. But it continues to offer the pay what you can option, because it’s run by genuinely altruistic people who believe in it’s mission.
The people who work at this studio want you to come in, and want you to do yoga with us. But I, the person sitting between you and the yoga mats (free to borrow, no charge) wants you to be honest. Can you really, literally not afford to pay $1 for this class? If so, then I submit that tonight, your priorities should be elsewhere.
